That's Ironic Murah
by keepinitrul2015
Summary: Nikki is a bartender studying to become a forensic analyst. She encounters Barry Allen as he struggles through the trials of love and a friendship is formed through their mutual hardships, but will it last after Barry's 9 month absence? And what of the new abilities Nikki finds herself in possession of after an explosion at Star Labs?(In collaboration with ProcrastinatorandLazyBoy)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I hurriedly cross the street and walk into Tullman's, breathing in the familiar heavy scent of the bar and it's habituals.

"Hey Mason." I greet my fellow bartender as I put my jacket on the rack and hop the counter, grabbing an apron from its hook.

"Nick, you know Todd doesn't like it when you get your feet all over the counters."

"He'll never have to know." I wink. "So how was your weekend? I hope it was good, because you totally left me hanging Friday night."

He sorta chuckles as he takes a bar rag and cleans the one or two scuff marks I managed to put onto the countertops. "Yeah, sorry. I took the night off for my anniversary with Jillian and," He pauses "I think I'm gonna propose."

I put down the cup I was examining, surprised. "Really? I hadn't thought you guys were together that long."

"Two years was friday." He says, offering a content smile.

"Wow, that's great. I hope it goes well." I try to sound happy for him, but deep down I'd hoped that maybe he could've given me a shot.

And not the kind we make.

He goes back to filling the ice buckets and I try not to sulk in my disappointment. I pull back my hair into a tight ponytail, making sure to restain all the loose black curls I can before the six o'clock rush. As people begin to pour in, Mason and I start bustling about the bar making food and serving drinks, yet I can't help stealing a glance at him every now and again, admiring the way he brushes his hair away from his face as he chuckles at a joke one of the regulars told him, or how his muscles flex and ripple as he extravagantly mixes the drinks.

Turning back to my customers I notice the cutest couple come in and take a seat at one of the tables near the center of the room. The man is adorably awkward, holding doors open for her and tripping over himself to take her coat. He has brown hair swept out of his face and is wearing a dark sweater over a plaid button up. Classic nerd gear. The woman, however, is beautiful in a very confident way, she has intense brown eyes and straightened black hair that she keeps down and her cocoa skin is flawless, matching her fashion sense. I try not to take too much interest in them, but as I glance back up she smiles at him warmly as he pulls her chair out, but not in a way I would expect.

As I pour this guy Maurice his favorite drink and ignore his come ons, the guy comes over looking like he wants something. I hand Maurice his glass and push Mason out of the way, "Geez Nikki! You could've just asked." He says defensively.

I stealthily stick my tongue out at him before turning around and addressing Mr. Slacks.

"What can I get you? Beer? Nah, you look more like a whiskey on the rocks type of guy. And a shirley temple for the lady?"

He chuckles and his mouth dimples. "Actually, can I have _two_ of your finest beers."

I give him a sideways glance. "Well then, Slacks 1 - me 0."

"Oh! and maybe two orders of nachos?"

"Sure thing, but you know …"

"What?" He asks.

"Nachos aren't really the best way to impress your date. You should try shots." I grin at him.

He laughs again, a real laugh this time, and I find myself smiling in response. "So I'm supposed to impress her with my alcohol consumption?"

"You did come to a bar." I tease. "Girl's gotta make a living."

He smiles and shakes his head, taking both beers into his hands. "And besides, she's not my date. I mean, you know … we're just friends."

"Uh huh." I say skeptically. "And what's your friend's name?"

"Iris." Just the way he says it proves he wants something more outta their relationship.

"Look slacks -"

"Barry. My name's Barry Allen."

"Look Barry," I say as I'm getting his nachos ready. "You and I both know you'd like to be more than 'Just Friends' with this Iris, and if you want the best result you're gonna have to take a leap of faith and just go for it. Ask her out on a _real_ date, at a classy restaurant with musicians and fondue, so that it's clear. And then there you go. Here, I've got these for you."

"Thank you." He replies as I exit the bar with his nachos in hand. "But it isn't that simple."

"How so? You're pretty cute, kid. And you've got that awkward charm in your favor. Plus fondue makes everything simple."

He laughs again and then looks absolutely defeated. "I don't know … we, I mean, we've been friends since we were kids and it would just be - I mean, it's complicated."

I stop us a few feet from his table and Iris is on her phone so she doesn't notice. "Look Barry, I understand where you're at, but if you don't take your chances now she's gonna slip away, no matter how hard you try to hold on. Trust me, I know." I look over at Mason and he follows my gaze.

"Ah. I see."

"He's planning on proposing to this girl Jillian, and I have to be happy for him. All because I didn't wanna risk anything before I was ready."

"Man, that must be tough."

"Yeah. So don't let it be you. And by the way, when you do ask her out, maybe you can come back and tell me how it went. You know, we in the friendzone gotta stick together." I wink at him as we continue to his table.

He laughs. "Ok, I will."

"I'm Nicholle by the way, but my friends call me Nikki. Here you go, hope you enjoy your meal." I smile at them both and then retreat back to the bar.

"What was that all about?" Mason asks as I return.

"Just helping my brothers and sisters in the friend zone."

He scoffs. "Yeah right, like anyone's ever friendzoned you."

"The irony in that statement is laughable." I whisper to myself as I start cleaning some glasses.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." I sigh defeatedly. _If only you had heard me_.

He hesitates, almost like he wants to ask me about it, but then says, "Alright."

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful, the normal pick-up lines from drunk men and a few women, watch a guy pour his drink on a girl and end up taking her home, some twenty-something ended up drinking too much with her friends and vomited all over the bathroom stall … The usual. Barry and Iris look like they have a good time, but only stay till about eleven and catch a cab like responsible drinkers. I hope he had the guts to talk to her, but hey, it's his life. The bar closes at two and as the last drunk stumbles out the door singing hymns Mason and I are left alone to clean up.

"Look," Mason says as I put away the last glass. "thanks for covering for me Friday, I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, no problem. It's what I do." I try to smile at him convincingly.

"No, really," He insists. "You're awesome, ok? But I know something's up, so don't even try to deny it. Spill." He gestures at me to commence my explanation.

I scoff. "It's not a big deal, and besides, it probably wouldn't interest you anyway. It's girl stuff."

"So … it's a guy?" He asks. "Do I need to have a talk with someone? Toss 'im around a little 'till he knows how to treat you right?" He grins and softly boxes my arm. I smile a bit ruefully and he takes that as a cue to continue. "Nick, we've been friends for years, come on, you can tell me."

He pulls me into his chest in one of those tight hugs that I love and my heart breaks even more. "I'd do anything for you, you're like a sister to me."

I only allow myself to hold him for a moment, forcing back tears, and then I whisper softly into his shirt, "I love you." and swiftly push myself away from him.

We both just stand there in shock for a moment and I realize I can't even just leave because he's blocking the bar's exit. I guess I could hop the counter but -

"What?" He asks just as softly. "What did you say?"

I try not to look at him. "I said I love you, you big jerk. I've loved you since forever." He still just looks at me without knowing what to say so I gently push past him and grab my jacket, putting it on as I head towards the door.

"Nick, wait!" He rushes over and grabs my wrist before I can make it outside. "Nick, I'm sorry. I just don't know what to say, ok? Don't be mad. I just … don't know what to say." I look into his eyes searching for some sign that I've been wrong all this time and that he does love me the way I love him.

"Please." He says. "Just wait."

He's still holding my wrist firmly, almost as if he thinks that if he lets me go I might never come back. I give him a sad smile. "Mason, I've been waiting for you for a very long time." The tears come back into my eyes, slowly making their way down my cheeks and I choke out a laugh that I muffle with my hand. I shake my head, witnessing the little drops splatter on the polished wood floor, before looking back up at him. "Unless you can tell me that you love me exactly like I love you …"

His blue eyes plead with me. "Nikki please don't do this. I do care about you, but Jillian-"

I shut my eyes. "I have to go."

"Nick, please." He begs.

"I have to go Mason." I sniff, willing myself to not sob. "Just let me go."

He slowly releases my hand and I push myself out the door, hurrying out into the dark to my car. I slide into the driver's seat and jam my key into the ignition, the car roaring to life. I go to put the car into drive but as I do the floodgates open, making me unable to see past the watery haze of my tears. I put it back into park and rest my head against the steering wheel, silently releasing all my frustrations and sorrow. I try to calm down so I can get home and wallow in my own bed, and once I can see a sufficient amount I wipe my face and start my drive home.

My apartment isn't very far from the bar and as I turn onto our street I notice a light on in our livingroom window. Harley must be up. I park my little Chevy four door in the parking lot and regain my composure before heading upstairs. I pull out my Hello Kitty key and unlock the door, entering the warmth our living room to see Harley's criminal justice books scattered about the place and said brunette laying upside down on our sofa eating ice cream with my cat delicately perched on her stomach. Her green eyes shoot up to me in surprise and Jojo's mitch matched ones lazily drift towards me in annoyance.

"I didn't do anything!" she yells and I giggle a little at the fact that that was her first response, but as she looks at me further she becomes worried. "Hey, have you been crying?"

I thought I was ok enough to respond, but when I open my mouth I have nothing to say so I just nod, trying to keep from looking like a gigantic baby. I shuffle my weight trying to build the confidence to move, but instead I lean against the door and slide down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest in an attempt to keep myself together. I put my head down to try and shield my face from Harley as another wave of sobs escapes me.

"Bro, are you ok?" I hear her ask and I feel awful for making her worry about me. God, this is so embarrassing! I hear her roll from the couch and say something about feeling abnormal as she makes her way over to me and kneel down. "What happened? Did you get mugged?! Ohmigosh, did you trip up the stairs? Man! That always happens to me! Or did you find out that Jojo was downloading porn off of the internet again? I swear, we need to watch that cat!" She pauses. "Are you on your period?"

I blubber another small laugh and try to calm down enough that my mouth will work.

"Com'on Nikki! You know I suck at girl stuff!" I lift my head up to look into her face and I see the concern there in the corners of her mouth and the way her eyebrows knit together.

"Are you ok?" She asks again.

I feel my chin quiver and I shake my head no.

"Did you trip?"

No.

"... Did Joseph download porn?"

Again no.

"Period?"

No.

"Dang it Nicholle! I feel like I'm talking to Lassie!" She puts her hands on mine, securing them in a tight grasp. I give a shaky sigh, sniff and clear my throat.

"I … told him."

"Lassie?" She asks confused. "Wait, Mason? Oh man, what did he say? Well, I guess whatever he said wasn't all too taco-tastic," She scoots next to me on the door. "Oh, Nick. I'm so sorry." She puts her arm around me and pulls me to her. "Do you need me to beat him up?" A small laugh escapes my lips and I lean my head on her shoulder, happy that she cares so much.

"No, don't beat him up." I sigh again. "It's not his fault, he was really nice about it actually. he was just … surprised I guess. And I didn't really tell him at a good time 'cause," I sniff, "he was thinking about proposing to his girlfriend. I should've just … moved on and not made this a whole big mess." I gesture broadly to communicate my point. "This whole thing is just a big pile of suck."

"Ya' want some?" She offers me her ice-cream carton.

"Nah, I'm okay."

"You sure? 'Cause I was totally going to give it to you anyway. I thought you were a stalker or a hobo breaking into the house." I shift off of her so we could look at one another.

"With a key?"

"Hey! You never know! Things are gettin' scary these days and hobos are getting classy!"

"You have an unhealthy obsession with hobos," I state teasingly, then look at the offered ice cream. I accept it and scoop a big spoonful of the stuff, sticking it all in my mouth.

"Better?" she offered.

"I don't know. What kind is this?"

"Half- baked."

"How do you bake ice cream?" I ask, taking another spoonful.

"Ha, I don't know man. Do you like it?"

"Meh, I don't care anymore." I actually do like it, but I'm just in that 'I hate everything, stuff is the worst' mood. "Thanks for the ice cream."

"No problem chica, it'll all work out, I promise."

"Thanks" I say, awkwardly standing up. "I'm gonna go to bed so I can make it to class tomorrow." I hand her back the carton and pick up Jojo from the couch and he purrs as I scratch his ears, taking him to my room. I open my door and close it, putting Jojo down on my dresser as I kick off my shoes and pants, grabbing a big T-shirt to replace the one I'm wearing. It smells like the bar and Mason's cologne. I toss my things in the hampers and then plop myself on my bed and burrow under the covers. Joseph meows and jumps onto my side, then curls up under my chin, putting a paw on my mouth. I kiss it and he gently sponges me once and then pulls his hand back under him closing his eyes contentedly. I follow his lead, soon drifting off into sleep.

Waking up I notice first the cat partially suffocating me, and then, after removing him from my face, look at my clock. 9:48 a.m. FJPIGJEDSOUHhdkjsvdiuqwpdokug! My first class starts at 10! I tumble out of my bed and attack my dresser tossing on the first acceptable thing I see. I race into the bathroom as quietly as possible and brush my teeth like there's no tomorrow. There's absolutely no time for my hair so I just let it do it's thing, swiping the soft curls out of my face as I slide into the kitchen and grab a bagel, my shoes and my keys before Harley scares the crap outta me from the living room floor.

"Late for class?" She asks, laying all over her textbooks.

"Uh huh." I mumble around the bagel in my mouth and limp awkwardly out the door still tying a shoe.

I drive across town to the campus I attend during the week and rush into my first class. I arrive exactly 18 minutes late and try to stealth myself into the seminar but as I descend the stairs of the lab to join our moderately sized biotechnology class, Mr. Hunt, my absolute favorite professor ever, calls out to me from his whiteboard.

"Miss Carstairs," I freeze. "Would you like to tell the class why you're late?"

"I … Well, Um … I-I woke up late. I'm sorry professor." I can feel my cheeks getting hot and I pray that that's all he wants as the eyes of my fellow classmates focus on me, but his gaze refuses to let me get to my seat.

"You woke up late?"

I nod.

"Miss Carstairs, as I'm sure you're well aware, my time is very precious to me and therefore one can assume that since I'm spending it instructing 20 somethings for four hours every tuesday, I place a level of importance upon this class. Do you agree?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then I expect you, and everyone else in this room, to place the same level of importance on it and be here on time. I don't care for interruptions to my class, Miss Carstairs, and therefore if you cannot bring yourself to leave the warmth of your bedroom in time, do not bother showing up."

"Yes Sir, I understand."

I sit down next to my lab partner as Mr. Hunt goes back to explaining how to isolate genomes to sample DNA.

After class ends at 2 I grab lunch and find myself in a little cyber cafe having a cup of coffee while working on some papers for my classes. I spend the next 3 ish hours improving these and stalling until the very last possible minute before I begrudgingly grab my keys and head over to Tullman's for my shift.

It's only about five, but the sun has already almost disappeared behind the horizon making the January air even colder. I stand across the street from the bar, watching my breath fog in the air, and seriously debating whether or not I really have to go in there. I can see Mason working the bar from here and my heart swells with anxiety and other, less coherent, emotions.

_You had the guts to confront him once, you can do it again. _I try to assure myself. I take a deep breath, shove my hands into my pockets and cross the street to my certain doom.

As I enter, the smell of the bar envelopes me once more, though somehow it's thicker and more tense. I avoid eye contact with everyone as I hang up my coat and walk around to join him behind the bar, and at first he doesn't approach me, relieving some of my fear, but as the moments grow, our silence says more than anything.

I take a glance at him and notice him doing the same. "Hi." I say.

"Hi." he replies and offers me a meek smile. "Are … are we good?"

"Yeah, totally."

"Cool." He seems relieved. "Cause I wouldn't wanna lose an awesome friend like you over something like this."

I raise my eyebrows as I hand a man his drink. "Something like this? Can you explain?"

"Well I just think that we shouldn't make this a big deal is all. It's nothing … relevant right now, so we shouldn't dwell on it. We've been friends for a long time and I wouldn't want to ruin that."

I stop what I'm doing to look at him straight on. "You wouldn't want to ruin our friendship with something as irrelevant as my feelings? Is that really what you just said to me?"

"No! not at all! I just think that-"

"We'd be better off never speaking of it again?"

"Well … yeah. I've been thinking about it and I think bringing it up a lot, or even just once more could be really bad."

"Bad for you, is what I really think you mean," I come closer to him so I can talk without the patrons overhearing us, "because for me, I thought that when I told you that stuff that you were my friend who would respect my feelings even if you didn't return them. I _want_ to talk about it Mason, because at least then we know where we stand."

He throws his bar rag over his shoulder in frustration. "You want to talk? Fine. I don't like you Nick. I never have, and now that I have Jillian, I never will. You're everything I don't want in a girlfriend and … you're too late to change my mind, Ok? How's that for talking?"

Waves of hurt wash over me. "Yeah. That was pretty good." I turn back to the bar, grab a shot glass and pour some rum into it. "At least I know where we stand." I toss my head back as I swallow the stuff. _Man, I've always hated the taste of alcohol. _I throw some change into the tip jar to pay for my shot and I proceed to ignore Mason for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'm not sad so much as … angry maybe? Frustrated? Disappointed? Yeah, I think disappointed is the most accurate. I guess I was expecting something more … fulfilling from Mason, but all I got was disappointment and lost a friend as collateral- 'cause I'm pretty sure we're not even friends anymore; the next few days of work consisted of tense silences and unspoken words, followed by this unequivocal disappointment.

So, I'm stuck in the middle of this … _situation _when Barry Allen walks into the bar. He surveys the room, then notices me behind the bar and smiles adorably. He makes his way over to me, glances at Mason and then proceeds to sit before me and begins talking.

"Nicholle right?"

"Yep, that's me hun. Can I get you anything?"

"Well maybe. But I actually came by to talk to you about …" He leans in. "Stuff." He raises his eyebrows to suggest the all inclusive _things._

"Did you tell her?"

"Can we talk somewhere a little more … private?" He glances at Mason again who in response just shrugs and says,

"Go ahead. It's repayment for that time you covered for me."

"Cool. Thanks." I say as I make my way around the bar to put on my coat before taking Barry's arm and leading him to my car. "I know this cafe that serves _the best_ muffins."

"It's not Jitters is it? Because that's where Iris works …"

"Nope, but thanks for the warning," I say as I unlock the doors and slip into the driver's side. "This place is called Booster's and it is fan-freaking-tastic."

He chuckles. "By the way, your guy at the bar is way more destructive to my self image from up close. He's like, seven feet tall with muscles the size of small squash! Plus he just seems so brooding and troubled, though the mind is typically defined as the organized totality or system of all mental processes or psychic activities of an individual, so maybe his demeanor is reflecting some sort of pathological disarray of his thoughts."

I laugh. "Are you trying to insinuate that he's permanently confused to make yourself feel better?"

He looks almost impressed. "Yes. Yes I was. Most people just tune me out when I go into things they call 'nerd rambles', but I call them "intelligent factoids'."

"Heh, they're definitely nerd rambles, but I do them too. For example, since you were talking about the mind, most people assume that our conscious mind continues until the end of day and then picks up after we wake up, but some scientists argue, however, that dreaming is a phenomenon that's just as visceral and immediate as consciousness is and that since we spend roughly 20 years asleep, give or take, dreams should be considered an alternate reality."

"An alternate reality? As in I'm actually living in my dreams? I don't know, that seems a little far fetched to me. Where's the proof of this?"

"Most of it is just speculative at the moment, and I agree, it is far fetched, but some claim that our unconscious mind can somehow connect with the energy fields around us every day and predict upcoming events. Others say it's a gateway into possible parallel worlds, like some of the theories of the multiverse. It's weird."

We then pull into the parking lot of Booster's and make our way inside after locking my car. We stand in line looking at the menu so Barry can decide what he wants.

"What are you getting?" He asks.

"I usually get a blueberry muffin in the morning along with a french vanilla latte, but they have excellent pastries such as that yummy looking cherry danish." I point to a particularly appetizing dessert. "But I could understand if you wanted something a little more nutritious at 9 at night."

"You're assuming I have healthy eating habits." He chuckles. "I totally want that danish." When we approach the register Barry orders first and takes that chance to inform the cashier that he will be paying for both of our orders.

"Woah, woah, woah there hun. I am completely capable of paying for my $3.25 worth of snackage."

"I would never suggest otherwise, but I want to repay you for missing work to come talk with me and for being willing to drive me all the way over here."

That kinda takes me aback. "Well … alright then." Barry then hands the cashier the amount due and once we are in possession of our tantalizing treats, we make our way to a table to chat. We small talk each other for a while, throwing in many a nerd ramble before my curiosity gets the better of me.

"So, tell me about Iris." I say as I take a bite of my food.

"About her? Or about the," he gestures broadly, "this whole ordeal?"

"Anything you wanna share. I'm a great listener, and trust me, I can't judge when it comes to this topic." I smile ruefully at him, a gesture which he returns.

"Ah, where to begin …" He leans back and rests his hands behind his head as he thinks, only to set his elbows back on the tabletop rather abruptly. "She has the prettiest smile I've ever seen. It's like when she smiles the whole world just stops and I'm stuck in this little bubble of time where it's just me and her."

"Aw, that's so cute!" I exclaim and he smiles bashfully. "Continue."

"Well, ok, here comes the sappy story, I've loved her since before I even knew what love really was. We went to elementary school together and I had a total crush on her, and then," He pauses. "My mom was killed and my dad was framed for her murder."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry Barry."

"Yeah … But after that, and some very temporary living situations, her dad took me in and we were basically raised as brother and sister, so it's not surprising that she's apparently never thought of me like that." He sighs. "We've been bestfriends since we were kids, like, we were super close, but everyday I feel like I'm losing her. It's almost as if my feelings for her are separating us without her even realizing it, so it feels like I'm losing her twice ... Does that make sense? I don't know why I've never told her before, I guess I never thought it was the right time."

"Well, that's … quite a story, but why was I the one to whom you wanted to tell it?"

He rubs his chin. "Ah, I'm not sure. Maybe because you can relate to what I'm going through? Or because you seem nice? Maybe because you're a bartender and it's, like, your job to keep secrets and only judge people silently?"

I laugh and he continues, "I don't know, I just feel like I can trust you. And everyone else I could trust with my relationship problems are either Iris, her father, or my father, the latter of whom is currently serving time with limited visiting hours."

I shift my weight a little uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. About your parents."

He sighs again. "No, I'm sorry. This isn't usually the kind of conversation one hopes to have when meeting a new person for a bite to eat."

"Well, so that you're not alone on the awkward conversations you probably shouldn't have with strangers, Mason and I basically broke up."

"But you weren't dating to begin with." He states, confused.

"I know, but it still feels that way because it's like, one moment we're fine, laughing and joking around, him trying to pull that big brother-esque routine, then 'I love you, Mason' just slips outta my mouth and all of a sudden we're thrust into uncharted territory and he didn't want to handle it. So now there's just this …" I try to think of the words to say. "Just this hole in my heart where our friendship used to be, because my confession cost us that. And it's reminiscent of a breakup." I sadly munch my muffin.

He looks at his half eaten pastry and says, "I need a drink. You want a drink?"

"They have coffee and stuff up there." I point to the register.

He laughs. "No, I mean a _drink_ drink. An alcoholic drink. You are old enough to have those right?"

"Ha ha, mister sassy slacks, I'm a bartender. It'd be illegal if I wasn't."

"Then let's go somewhere. This topic has rendered the need of alcohol." He takes one more bite of his danish then stands up and throws it away.

"Alright." I too toss my muffin in the trash as we head back out to my car. "If this suggestion isn't too weird, considering we barely know each other, we could go back to my house instead of going to a bar or club. I have quite an assortment of liquors you might be interested in. Plus it's way more low key and you won't have to worry about getting trashed and embarrassing yourself in public."

"I'm in." He grins.

~.~. Le skip of drunkenness .~.~

Barry and I ascend the steps to my apartment and as I unlock the door I check the time on my phone. 10:47, Harley should be home by now. We enter my home to find that Harley beat us to the punch, and apparently she's going hard with the vodka.

She looks surprised and asks, "Are you wanting me to leave because I'm not sure if I can do that right now." She gestures to her now full shot glass. Must have been a rough day for everyone.

"Don't worry about it Hun. Harley, this is Barry. Barry, Harley, my roommate." Barry offers and handshake which she awkwardly accepts.

"So Barry," she begins, "what are your intentions with my Nikki?" Her face is stone cold serious and … is that a slight italian mafia voice?

Barry and I both try to speak at once. "Oh, no! It's not like that! We're just friends!" I assure her.

"N-no! I-I mean we, no! Not a _we_ but a her and me! But not a her _and_ me, but a her _and_ me. I'll just shut up now ..." Harley kinda laughs and he sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at his shoes.

"D'aw, you guys are adorable." She coos as she takes another shot. "So what's up? Trouble in nerd paradise?"

"You know my whole … _situation_ with Mason?" I ask and she nods. "Well Barry is going through the same thing."

"You're in love with Mason, too?" She asks.

Barry and I laugh. "No," he says, "a girl named Iris. I've known her since we were young and …"

"So now you're both down in the dumps?" We nod. "Well I've got just the medicine for ya!" She pulls out two new shot glasses and pours vodka in them along with her own and then slides them across the counter towards us. Surprisingly, most of it stays in the glasses, which is a feat considering she's getting a little tipsy.

Several shots later Barry and I are sitting at the kitchen table spilling or woes upon Harley as she takes the part of our bartender, constantly refilling our drinks. "Sssssss not fair." Barry slurs drunkenly. "I've been, like, her best friend ever for, like, forever annnd ssssshhhhee doesn'tevennoticeme."

I look him dead in the eye. "Mason is the EXACT same way. Like, what the hell man. I've known you waaaaaaaay longer than that b- … broad." I giggle. "I deserve to have a shot at this. Harley! I need another shot! Ha! A shot!" Barry and I crack up as Harley leans over and pours my glass so full it starts to overflow.

"We so should've gone to a club." Barry says as Harley refills his in turn. "Because I really want to dance." He almost looks depressed by the fact that he can't dance which make me laugh again.

"We could use spotify." Harley suggests accurately.

"I'll go get my laptop!" I run into my room, tripping over Jojo in the process and laugh as I remove myself from the floor.

"You alright Nikki?" Harley yells to me.

"Yeah!" I exclaim as I return to them with my laptop, placing it in the living room so there's more space to dance. "Any requests?"

"Anything by Maroon 5," Barry chimes in.

I pick the radio option for Maroon 5 and as the songs begin playing Barry jumps out of his seat and says enthusiastically, "I need a fedora! And aviators!"

"Yes your highness!" Harley says with a drunken bow. "Nikki'll get it for you," she says, taking another shot and winking at me.

I rush back into my room with an unexplained urgency and find that ugly straw fedora my brother had gotten me for Christmas last year as a joke. Then I burst into the living room and go to my sunglasses rack, pulling out the manliest pair I can find before handing these things over to Barry.

He gravely takes them, positioning himself as though Harley and I are his audience, then he sets and re-adjusts the hat on his head. He takes his time with the aviators, and I can't tell if that because he wants to look cool or if he's just drunk enough that he's trying not to poke his eye out. Regardless, it makes me laugh and looking back at Harley I see she's laughing as well.

Barry restarts Moves Like Jagger and begins lip syncing with Adam Levine's whistle. He pops his head up on the 'oh' and does a weird little lip thing with him mouth the next beat, causing Harley and I to burst into more fits of laughter. _Just shoot for the staaaaars~ If it feels right ~ _Barry sashays his hips as he alternates shaking his pointer fingers at opposite sides of the room. _And aim for my heaaaaaaart~ if you feel like ~ _Barry bites his lip like he thinks he's a sexy beast, puts his hands over his heart and pumps them to make it look like it's beating and he pelvic thrusts in time with his hands.

Harley has her head on her arm as her body visibly shakes with laughter. For my own personal safety I lower myself from the chair onto the floor and cover my mouth as my giggles turn into hiccups.

_And take me awaaaay ~ And make it okaaaaay~ I swear I'll behaaave ~ _This kid, I'm tellin' ya. He shimmies back and forth before he takes the fedora in hand, slowly raising it above his head as he wiggles his body like a noodle. _You wanted controoooool~ So we waited ~ I put on a shooooooow~ now we're naked~ _He looks over the rim of the glasses as he bites his lip again, slowly raising his shirt to just about nipple level before dropping it and shaking his fingers at us like _we_ were the ones trying to get naked.

"Keep your clothes on you perv!" I laugh. Barry grins. Harley gets up out of her seat, a little wobbly, and pulls out her cards against humanity set and proceeds to make it rain over Barry's little performance.

_You say I'm a kiiiiiid~ My ego is biiiiiiig ~ I don't give a sh********t ~ _He comes over and grabs my hands, pulling me onto my feet and dragging me to his little 'stage'.

"Dance with me," he demands as he rocks us side to side with his dumb aviators and fedora. I take my hands from his and match his little side step, adding snaps to make it cooler. I spin around once like those kids from Grease and he laughs.

"Ah! The lonely life!" Harley interjects. "Third- wheel mode, activate!" She sets her target onto the unsuspecting Jojo from his couch cushion hideaway and grabs him, beginning an off beat slow dance, but said cat is not amused.

_And it goes like this! ~ Take me by the tongue and I'll know you! ~ _He starts doing this thing where his arms look like he's in a row boat as he, like, squats with his tongue sticking out from between his lips, making him look constipated. I laugh and start doing the disco as Harley spins with my cat in her arms. _Kiss me till you're drunk and I'll show you all the moves like Jagger ~ All the moves like Jagger ~ all the moooooooooves like Jag-ger!~ _Barry raises his arms over his head as he extends from his squat and rolls his hips towards me suggestively, closing the distance between us.

"Woah there Hun. Gimme some space to breathe." I put a hand on his chest to stop his advance.

"Are you saying I take your breath away?" He grins.

I scoff. "More like the alcohol wafting from your mouth is suffocating." I grin in return.

"So you're thinking about my mouth huh?" He leans towards me, but as I step away I slip on a pile of Harley's Cards Against Humanity cards and end up grabbing onto his shirt in an effort to stay upright, inadvertently taking Barry with me. We end up a pile of tangled, drunken limbs laughing what little coherence we had into oblivion.

"You're heavy." I manage between fits of giggles.

"Sorry." He says, trying to lift himself off of me as his arms shake with the force of his laughter. He falls again, somewhat crushing my shoulder and catching my earring on his sweater.

"Ow, ow, ow! Don't move!" I yelp, my head attached to his armpit. _At least he has good taste in deodorant._ I try to untangle the threads from my ear, but am unable to. "Harley! We need your help!"

"Woah now, things be gettin' all sassy up in here! Get your adorable nerd hands off of my mob- daughter!"

"She's stuck to my shirt." Barry announces.

"Well roll over, I can't get her unstuck with you like that!"

I gingerly go with him as he slowly rolls onto his back and Harley comes in and takes the back off of my earring letting it slip out of my ear so I can sit up. I roll off of Barry and Harley manages to retrieve my earring from the clutches of his sweater.

"How about we do something a little less dangerous now?" I suggest.

~.~. Le Skip of Doom .~.~

Card against humanity. Plus more alcohol. Equals best game ever. We started the game by everyone taking a shot, and then the loser of each round would drink to the winner. Needless to say we get even more trashed, if that's possible. We laugh and drink until Barry excuses himself to the bathroom to vomit and then … well, I can't really remember much after that.

I'm awoken by a throbbing in my skull that has me already regretting my decisions last night. I refuse to open my eyes even as I hear someone moving around and then a loud Ow was heard, made by a feminine voice, and I knew at that moment that Harley was trying to murder my ears.

"Sssshhhhh. Don't speak." I whisper.

I throw my arm over my eyes to shield them even further from light. Then there was a phone. A very boisterous and obnoxious phone.

"Nikki, what happened to Barry?" Harley asks as she approaches.

I snap my eyes open and groan, trying to roll over and inadvertently falling off the couch. As I find my way off the floor and wobble my way after her and as we approach the bathroom the ringing intensifies. Harley pushes the door open and I witness the most uncomfortable scene of my life. A strange, half naked man curled up in my shower, missing the most vital part of his outfit. His pants.

I lean over to Harley. "What happened last night?"

She spaces off for a moment, probably trying to remember last night. She suddenly grimaces. "Barry! Barry freaking Allen, get your nerdy ass up and answer your phone or I swear to Lucifer ...!"

How can she stand being so loud in such an echo-y space? Barry opens his eyes cautiously, looking up at up before registering what she'd said.

"My phone?" He suddenly panics and tries to stand up, but he gets himself tangled in our shower curtain, a.k.a. his makeshift blanket, and falls. I laugh as quietly as possible, and go over to try and help him, Harley coming with me. When we finally manage to free him, he doesn't even grab his pants first, he just goes straight for the phone and I'm sitting there trying to concentrate on something other than his cat boxers. We share a mutual love. Of cats. Not boxers. Man, awk. "Oh man! I'm late!" He exclaims, trying to shove his phone in his pocket before realizing he isn't wearing his pants.

He looks back up at the two of us. "Well … this is embarrassing .." He blushes.

"Don't keep standing there! This is getting weird!" I cover my eyes.

"You can just say you were having car problems." Harley interjects, apparently not having heard our little exchange about pants.

"I don't have a car." He replies, finally grabbing his pants and redressing.

"So? Just go!" She says, pushing him out of the bathroom.

He turns back around after collecting his things. "I hate to leave like this, but thank you both for, you know … everything." He smiles his little dimple-y smile and extends his arms for a hug. I accept and so does Harley when he offers one to her.

"Of course. Anytime, Hun."

"Yeah, come back soon baby face. It was fun having you." Harley smiles at him and he turns to leave. "Make sure to drink lots of water!" She calls and he closes the door gently after him.

"Hey Nikki?"

"Yes?"

"When did Barry take off his pants?"

"I … I don't know … But you do realize you never actually told me what happened last night. And I figure you remember, but by the look on your face I'm not sure if _I_ want to." I walk into the kitchen to make myself some coffee and as the light sears my eyes all I can think is _Good thing I don't have class today_.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It's about a business week later before I hear back from Mr. Allen, and I had started to wonder if he had dropped off the face of the earth. When we finally do see each other again, it's because he stops by the bar to catch up and gives me his phone number so, and I quote, "We can hang out again soon. Though maybe with less alcohol," which earned me a questioning look from Mason. (One of the only things I've gotten from him lately.) I take him up on it though and the three of us, Barry, Harley and I, find time to hang out. I guess getting unbelievably drunk is one way to start relationships.

Aside from chilling with my friends, the next three weeks have gotten pretty cray-zay. I have a huge project due for my chemistry class along with a paper in psychology, and Mr. Hunt is making my life a living Hell in Biotech. Like, seriously dude, I was late _one_ time. No need to resort to personal vendettas, geez. Anyway, that's my school life. Becoming a forensic analyzer with a minor in criminal profiling is hard work.

And at my work-work things have gotten even more stressful with Mason. I thought him telling me that I was the worst possible candidate to be his girlfriend and then proceeding to cut me out of his life altogether would be the worst of it, but I was dead wrong. He's started inviting his girlfriend to the bar to have long, romantic conversations about their future, but as far as I know he still hasn't proposed which brings up questions about if he's second guessing his decision, and if he is, why now? Was it me? Maybe he lied when he said he'd never liked me so that I wouldn't pester him anymore. Maybe now that he knows about my feelings he'll - No. Stop. I can't do that to myself. No more what if's, it's time to grow up and move on.

So, back to Barry Allen. A couple weeks after our friendship was founded on drunken sorrows he texts me: _**Are you free this afternoon?**_

Which takes me by surprise 'cause : _**Aren't you supposed to be at work right now?**_

_**Eh. It's a long story … Wanna get coffee at Booster's?**_

I look down at my tank top and fluffy pajama pants that my cat is nesting in. _**I'm not dressed. And I wasn't really planning on accomplishing that task today.**_

_**Then I'll come over?**_

_**Sure.**_

_**Cool. Be there in a few.**_

I sigh and push my cat off my legs. "Come on Joe, gotta go put a bra on."

~.~. Le skip of suspense .~.~

I'm in the kitchen making myself a bowl of cereal when someone knocks on the door. I slide over in my fuzzy socks and open it, only to be basically pushed out of the way as Barry tumbles in with an armload of briefcases and paperwork. He sets his stuff down on the kitchen table and then turns around all flustered like.

"What's all this?" I ask.

He looks back at his things. "Case work …" He runs a hand through his hair nervously and regards me again before walking over and plopping himself down on our sofa and turning on the T.V.

"Um, alright … 'S not like this is my house or anything." I shrug agitatedly as I sit in one of the armchairs across from him.

He sighs and clicks off the remote. "I'm sorry, some stuff's come up and it's got me … out of sorts."

"Is this stuff the reason you wanted to come over and talk?"

"Yeah, but we need to wait for Harley."

"Do you want me to make you some tea or something while we wait? Alcohol isn't the only beverage I appreciate." I grin, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes are fixed on the wall.

"Barry. Barry!"

"Hm?"

"You sure you're ok there, Kid? You seem a little out of it." I note as I walk back into the kitchen to commence the process of tea brewing and dispose of the uneaten cereal. Such a waste.

He anxiously wipes his hands on his pants. "Yeah." He gives a half hearted smile. "Like I said, just a little out of sorts." He looks over at the 'Case work' again, and then his watch before tightly grasping his hand together and asking, "When is Harley supposed to be back, anyway?"

Once I have the delectable beverage ready we sip tea in tense silence. Barry and I had sat in the living room watching morning cartoons when the door opens and Harley comes through the archway. "Hey guys!" She exclaims, making us both jump. "Barry, I was just about to text you back. What's with the tree massacre?" She gestures at his paperwork before looking at us again, and seeing the looks on our faces she then asks, "Oh sorry, did I interrupt something?"

Then I notice her face, or more specifically, the huge shiner she was trying to conceal beneath her brown bangs. "Oh man! What happened to your face?!" I come over to inspect it, moving her hair out of the way as I continue to drink my tea.

"I just got into it with that kid Brennan from class." I give her my best disapproving look. 'That kid Brennan' has had it out for her since they met, but I don't really condone violence. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Turn off your momma bear mode and tell me what's with all these papers."

I turn back around to Barry who had been watching this whole exchange. "Yeah Bear, what's with all the papers?"

He had stood up at Harley's entrance and at this point walks over to the table where his mess is laid out, taking a seat in one of the chairs. I cautiously follow his lead, noting how very brooding and uncharacteristically quiet he is. Harley stands there for a second longer with this look on her very bruised face like 'uh, am I missing something' before I signal that she should sit too, which she does. However reluctantly.

He sighs and looks between us. "Ok," He says, "This is going to sound completely crazy, but I need you guys to just listen for a sec."

"Man this is getting intense …" Harley notes and I nod my agreement.

"Harley, I don't think I've told you yet, but when I was young my mother was ... murdered." He lets his words hang in her shocked silence a moment before continuing, "Nikki, remember how I told you I'm completely sure my dad didn't do it?"

I nod. "Well, not in so many words, but yeah … the gist was there …" I trail off awkwardly as I realise It would have been much better if I'd have just stuck with my nod. Yet he continues unphased,

"Did you ever wonder how I could be so sure?"

I shrug. "Yeah, but I thought maybe you'd looked at the evidence and some of it didn't hold up or something."

"The evidence." He scoffs somewhat bitterly, looking at the piles of paper. "_This_ is the 'evidence', and it's completely solid from any detective's perspective." He pauses. "But I know what really happened. I was there that night. I saw the thing that killed my mom."

"The _thing_?" I ask.

"You were there? When your mother …?" Harley's quiet words leave the question unfinished, but she and Barry look at each other and some silent understanding passes between them.

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair again, returning to his story with vigor, and turning to me as if I'm the one who now needs to be convinced. "I was there that night, Nick, even though all of _this_ says I wasn't." He gestures angrily at the files. "I was there and what I saw in my living room was something completely unexplainable."

"What did you see?"

"A ball of lightning. And inside the lightning there was a man in a yellow suit. _He_ killed my mom." He leans back in the chair and rubs his chin rather aggressively before sitting up suddenly and continuing his story. "I was eleven years old and I was woken up by a loud noise in the middle of the night so I went downstairs to find out what it was and I saw my mom stuck in this vortex of red and yellow and I couldn't get near her. I remember that as I tried, I saw this shape in the lightning and it was a man. There's no doubt in my mind. Then my dad was telling me to run and the next thing I know I'm twenty blocks away from my house. I ran all the way back, but when I got there …" He stops. "They arrested my dad and he's still sitting in Iron Heights for her murder. Everyone- the cops, the doctors- they all told me it was impossible, but I know what I saw."

His eyes plead with me to believe him. I look over at Harley and take in the way she's looking at him. She totally believes him. Or wants to anyway. Man, I'm screwed. "Barry …" I start skeptically, but he interrupts me.

"Nicholle, listen," He tries again, almost like he's scolding me, "I know it sounds crazy, but I have been looking into cases that seem… _impossible. _Like this case in Starling, there was a report last night of a robbery. But the thing is, robber has this unnatural strength," he pulls out his tablet from under some of the papers. "This is a picture from the M.E. report of one of security guards that died that night." Barry sets the device in front us and we both lean in.

"From the looks of this," Harley says, "it looks like he was strangled."

"Broke his neck actually," I correct, noting the bruising pattern and the disjointed vertebrae.

"This hand print…," Harley touches the screen to zoom in on the man's neck. "Someone did this with only one hand?" she looks up at me and then Barry for confirmation.

It looks like it, but … "It takes 1,250 foot-pounds of torque to break someone's neck…," I declare, leaving out the implications of this. "Barry, how did you get this," I ask, concerned.

"Yeah Bartholomew," Harley smirks, trying to ease the tension a bit. It doesn't exactly work.

"Look," Barry explains. "I did some research on the building of Queen Consolidated's Applied Sciences Division and the door that they broke into was made of expanded reinforced titanium, and it was ripped into like it was nothing." That's … impossible. "This proves that the impossible can exist, right? So maybe a man in lightning is more than just a story an eleven year old made up to save his dad. Right?" He looks between us, desperate and hopeful, willing us to accept the words he's given us; this secret he's shared. I look over at Harley and she shrugs.

I sigh. "I mean, I guess." I push my curls out of my face and he smiles, relaxing enough to sit back down in our kitchen chair. "But what do you plan on doing with all of this? It's not like you can head down to Starling City and ask him about how he got his super strength."

"And how would you even get _close enough _to the case," Harley points out. "I'm pretty sure SCPD isn't going to let just some kid from another city in to investigate one of their cases."

"But I _can_ ask! Well, not exactly, but kind of."

I press my fingers against my temples in an effort to remain sane. And apparently I'm the only one. What with Barry wanting to run off to chat with murderers and Harley being so chill with all of this in general …

I fold my hands together and look up at him, worried. "Are you sure you want to get mixed up in stuff like this Barry?"

"Nikki," He leans in and rests his chin in his hands, boring into my eyes with the intensity of his gaze. "I have the opportunity to find out what actually happened to my mom that night and maybe even free my dad. And even if this doesn't tell me about the man in the yellow suit, at least I'll be one step closer to proving the impossible _is _possible."

I look at Harley again. "So did you bring all of this stuff by just to make us sad or...?" She asks him.

"No, I don't want you guys to be sad," he states. " it's just … All my life people have been telling me that stuff like this doesn't happen, that it's crazy. That I'm crazy. But this," He holds up a picture. "this could be all I need to know that they haven't been right all these years."

"So why'd you bring all of this by …?" She asks awkwardly, 'cause he didn't really answer her the first time.

"I think I'm trying to ask you both for your help." He smiles sheepishly at us. "Not only do I want to solve this case, which, most likely I won't be able to do by myself, but," He hesitates. "I also want to find out about the Starling City vigilante."

"No, Barry Allen. Just no." I cut in before he coerces Harley into anything else and go back to rubbing my temples in frustration. "I can only handle so much illegality in one night."

"It's noon." Harley points out and I look at her. "Sorry … you were … making a point … awk."

"Damn it Nicholle." He says exasperatedly, putting an arm behind his head and looking at me with this look that I can't quite describe. It's like frustrated and disappointed and … hurt. "This is so incredibly important to me. Yeah, it could get dangerous, yeah I could get hurt, and yes, it might be … somewhat illegal, but I thought you two could help me avoid all of that. I thought you would have my back. I thought we were friends."

_Layin' the guilt on a little thick there, Bear. _But it's working. It's the puppy eyes. I huff. "We are friends, and we do have your back. I've got your back, I just don't want you to get hurt is all …"

"But you believe me?"

"I believe you." Harley declares. "I at least believe you shouldn't be doin' this by your lonesome, Baby face." They both turn to me.

"I … I don't know. The guy in Starling? Yeah, I believe you. But he's a dangerous criminal who isn't afraid to _murder _people Barry, and the same goes for the vigilante. As for the man in the yellow suit? It's …"

"Don't say impossible." He begs.

"Improbable. Unlikely." His face falls. "But possible." I shrug. "Science is about testing the impossible and expanding the bounds of our reality, so It's improbable … But possible … I suppose."

Harley cheers and he sighs with relief. "You don't know how much you saying that means to me."

"I think I have an idea." I smile softly. "Your hands were shaking."

He wipes them self consciously on his pants. "Yeah. And clammy."

"And you look terrible." Harley comments, making Barry chuckle and me smirk.

"Hey," I add before we can move on to anything that would reasonably follow a hot debate. "You _can_ count on me, Kay? Harley and I have your back no matter what. Count on it. That's what friends are for." He smiles. "Just remember that you're not the only one affected by the decisions you make, kay Barry?"

~.~. Le skip of dummies .~.~

After Barry leaves Harley and I are stuck in a tornado of papers and files that he left so we could learn the case. When trying to organize all these things into something coherent failed, I decided 1:21 p.m. was just the time to have that bowl of cereal. Maybe I should've had it sooner. I get cranky when I'm hungry.

All I can think about is Bartholomew running off to catch that stupid train to Starling City to try and find some no name vigilante and talk to a man wanted for murder. "Idiot." I whisper to myself, but I really just hope he finds what he's looking for and makes it back safe. Starling isn't exactly known for it's hospitality, just it's crime rate. Well, and architecture. Those 1%-ers really known how to live it up.

Harley comes in then, breaking me out of my thoughts. "So," She begins, grabbing a glass of water. "how's it going with Mason? Any better? I know things have been a little … strained between you two."

I sigh, dangling my legs from the countertop as I sit and stir my cornflakes around. "Well, it's been pretty stressful. We don't talk, like ever anymore, especially after he told me to basically bug off. The lengths of our conversations consist of the weird looks he gives me when Barry comes by. Now he just brings his girlfriend to the bar and they talk for hours. A part of me believes… Nevermind." I stop myself and dejectedly play with my cereal.

"Hey, what is it? You know you can talk to me right?" She says, placing her cup next to me and giving me her full attention.

"I just… He hasn't proposed to her yet." I confess and glance up at her through my lashes. "What if he's second guessing his decision? What if he's actually thinking about being with me?"

She pauses for a moment and her jaw tightens a little.

"So, what if he was?" She questions back, hoping up unto the counter with me. "Do you actually want to be in a relationship with him?"

"I don't know. I don't think so… Maybe. I don't know. I'm just so confused." I sigh again and shove cereal into my mouth, trying to concentrate on something other than my hopeless love life to keep from crying.

"Hey, why don't we have a movie night?" She suggests, patting my knee. "To get our minds off of lame-o boys."

I smile, "Movie night."

~.~. Le skip of progression .~.~

Barry spends a few days in Starling City all the while sending us fibers to analyse and surveillance camera footage to look over along with other things as he works the case of the strong man. Because of this, his mom's case, and Mr. Hunt assigning a massive individual project, I've been spending the majority of my time in the forensic/biotech labs in CCU. And that is where I can currently be found the night of the particle accelerator launch.

_**Hey, Iris and I are going to watch the particle accelerator launch at S.T.A.R. labs, wanna come? - Barry**_

_**No thanks, I can't, I've got school stuff. But have fun on your nerd date ;)**_

I put my phone in my pocket and return to setting up the experiment just as my lab partner Jenna comes in and places her bag in a locker.

"Hey," she says, coming over to examine the set up. "thanks for coming out here on such short notice, I know you really wanted to be at the particle accelerator launch."

"Yeah, no problem. You need help with your project, so it's all good." I smile at her. "So, I have an idea that you may like. I was thinking we, or you, could do an experiment on Huntington's disease. I think Mr. Hunt would be very impressed if you could pull it off by yourself."

She kinda chuckles. "But I'm not doing it by myself. You're doing it."

"_We're_ doing it." I correct. "But he doesn't have to know that."

"So what even is Huntington's disease?" She asks.

"Well, it's a hereditary disease marked by degeneration of the brain cells causing chorea and progressive dementia."

She grimaces. "Sounds so fun."

"Anyway, I managed to procure several DNA samples from several willing participants, some having a medical history of the disease and some not, and I thought for your project we could analyse it and give him a report."

"That sounds kinda simple." She states.

"That's what you'd think, but it's actually a fairly complex process. So, I've separated the strands of DNA which are labeled here." I point to some tubes. "We need to set up the electrophoresis apparatus and make sure the combs are in place. After that I have some instructions I printed out for you to follow, also there are a few other machines you may need so you might want to take a moment and check if they're booted up before you get started, but if you don't mind I was hoping I could get some work done on my project too."

"Oh yeah, that's fine."

"Cool." I grab some papers off a nearby table and hand them to her. "Here you go." Then I make my way across the room to a table next to the wall of windows where I'd set up my computer and things. This wing is by far my favorite part of the building because this entire side is just made of glass, and the third floor, where we are, offers a perfect view of the bay, and just across it, S.T.A.R. Labs. The lights coming from it reflects on the water and I feel like it could make a very beautiful oil-painting, especially with the sky all ominous like that.

Huh. I wonder if they're going to cancel the particle accelerator launch due to the weather. I pull out my headphones and plug them into my laptop, searching for a live news streaming, which isn't too hard to find. '_... And the particle accelerator will continue in schedule ...' _some news lady informs me as I begin my "project". I've actually already finished my biotech design, but I had hoped to use the university's facilities to further investigate Mrs. Allen's murder. Thus, I begin my research on the Allen trial.

As I go through the infinite resources of the internet writing down important tidbits from the case something flashes in the corner of my eye and I look up in time to see S.T.A.R. Labs explode. "Oh my ..." I trail off as the building produces a mushroom cloud of fire. "Oh my god!" I stand up so quickly my chair falls to the ground.

"What's …" Jenna turns to ask and then falls silent, approaching the glass in disbelief.

I quickly calculate the amount of pressure needed to blow off the top of a building and produce an inferno of that magnitude, and the energy required would be enough to fuel a shock wave that, from this distance, could …

"Jenna! We need to get somewhere without windows!" I grab my laptop and scramble towards the door, but she hasn't moved. "Jenna!"

"My brother works there …"

I make it halfway back to her, intent on us both making it out of here, but not before the windows shatter, launching thousands of projectiles at us. I feel the glass cut through skin and cloth alike as I get thrown against the equipment from the force of the blast, black splotches blooming in my vision upon impact. I fall to the ground and the equipment follows, trapping me underneath.

"Jenna." I manage weakly, struggling against unconsciousness. Pain is the only thing my mind registers as I somehow lift my head to search for her. I only manage to glimpse one thing before my strength gives out: blood.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wind. Sirens. Lights; red and blue. Voices.

"It doesn't look like she'll make it …"

Pain.

My lungs … won't work. I'm choking.

I can't move.

Men with boots. Glass.

And the Blood.

So much blood.

I'm lifted into the light

Then …

Darkness.

~.~.~.~.~

_I'm dreaming. I can tell. Which is weird because, you know, I'm supposed to be all 'dream-y'. And I have this sense of … urgency, like, I really need be doing something right now. My homework? Checking up on Harley? I'm in this kind of empty, undefined space that isn't offering much choice in activities so… what should I be doing?_

Living.

… _That definitely wasn't me. I look around the 'room' but everytime I think I have some solid detail to investigate, it changes, leaving me surrounded in blurred shrouds of dark shadows. _

"_Hello?" I call out into the seeming nothingness._

Hello.

_The hair on the back of my neck prickles as that one word slides across my consciousness as cold and impersonal as metal. My heart picks up speed and I shiver with a burst of adrenaline. Ok, this is starting to freak me out._

"_Who are you? _Where _are you?" I ask, trying to find the owner of these words, and yet … they weren't words. They were more like … thoughts. Someone else's thoughts. Inside my head._

_Silence._

"_I want to know who you are!" I declare, facing the shadowy edges of my mind, because that's what they are, aren't they, with a fleeting bout of courage. "Show yourself!"_

_Then I see it. A light. But not the kind of light you imagine seeing when you're dead, two white, blinking lights just beyond the edge of this 'room' that has declared itself my mind. I cautiously approach them, but stop right at the brink of the nothingness. I can distinguish the outline of a form in the shadows, and the blinking lights rest right at eye-level, still unmoving._

"_Why are you here? And for that matter, where is_ '_here' to begin with?" I ask._

I have come to realize that the space in which we reside is your consciousness.

"_Why am I here?"_

You are dying.

_I furrow my brow. "Then why are you here?"_

I can help you.

"_How?"_

_The form moves forward, revealing a sleek, humanoid machine seemingly made completely of steel. The white, blinking lights are its eyes, set in a face that is a perfect replica of my own. I step backwards in shock and fear, but the machine halts at the edge of my mind, just as I had to._

I am dying as well, but together we can live.

_Its mouth hasn't moved, making me wonder how it speaks at all. It just stares at me, unblinking, unmoving, waiting for my response._

"_What are you?"_

_It pauses._

I am not fully aware of what my existence would be called, but I am an assembly of technological processes that have attached themselves to your life essence due to an, as of yet, unexplainable phenomena which has rendered us both … inoperable. We are dying.

"_What do you want me to do?"_

Come. Together we will live.

_I slowly approach this machine that offers me my life, and as I draw nearer the thing reaches for me, but is blocked by an indiscernible wall separating our consciousnesses._

You must allow me entrance to your mind. Together we will live.

_It reaches for me again, and this time I lean into it's touch, willing myself to let it into this place. I close my eyes in concentration, and as I do I feel its cold metal fingers brush along the skin of my face, stopping at my temples. All at once it feels like my skull has been ripped open, allowing my thoughts to roam without boundaries as the machine seeps into my consciousness. I open my eyes, startled, to see the the metal creature slowly diminishing as its mind and my own meld seamlessly into one another._

Together we will live ...

~.~.~.~.~

I wake up to an annoying beeping sound, and open my eyes to see the bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room. I notice the tube stuck down my throat first, then the ache of my lungs and then the person resting their head at the foot of my hospital bed. I shakily remove the tube from my mouth, noting that it connects to an oxygen tank, which is also delivering a steady stream through my nose.

"Mom?" I rasp.

The head shoots up revealing the worried face of my mother, her makeup smudged and short blonde hair frizzy. "Oh, Nicholle, thank god." She moves to sit closer to me and begins brushing the hair out of my face. "How are you feeling?"

"My whole body hurts," I inform her. "But my head feels like it's been split open and then put back together with tape and old socks."

"Well that's basically what happened, Nick-knack. I donated the socks myself." My brother Charlie comes in then, dressed in his military fatigues.

"Char!" I exclaim hoarsely, reaching for him as he leans down to hug me tightly.

"Ugh, you definitely smell like my old socks." He grins at me.

"Charles, leave your sister alone. She's in the hospital for god's sake." My mother scolds. I don't think she's ever called him anything other than Charles. She's never been one for nicknames.

"Nice to see you, too, Mom." He leans over and kisses her forehead.

"What are you doing back?" I question him. "I didn't think you were on leave for another couple months."

"Well, when I heard what happened, my superiors decided to let me come home early. It's just for a few days, but I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"How did you get here so fast?" I ask, realizing that it should've taken a good amount of time for Charlie to make his way back stateside.

"So fast?" He asks.

"Nicholle, honey, you were unconscious for almost a week. Only in the last few days has there been any real progress concerning your condition."

My head is throbbing. "What happened?" I notice for the first time the bandages running the length of my forearms and one on my left temple.

My mother takes a breath, a dead giveaway for one of her long winded, evasive responses. "Nicholle, it seems as though -"

"Nick, S.T.A.R. labs exploded and the building you were in was caught in the blast." Char informs me. "You were in critical condition for a long time, and … they weren't sure if you were going to survive." He takes my hand and looks at me intently. "Do you remember?"

"I …" Fragmented images resurface in my mind all at one.

The explosion.

The panic.

The glass.

The pain.

The blood.

"Jenna!" I exclaim suddenly. "Where's Jenna?!"

"Who's Jenna?" Charlie asks, looking between us.

"Mom, she was with me! Is she ok?" The beeping from the monitor picks up it's pace as I wait for her answer.

She looks at me and my eyes pick up tiny details about her. _The tightness of her mouth indicates that she's worried. Hunched shoulders mean stress and fatigue, her eyeliner hides minute smudges and her foundation looks caked; she hasn't been home in several days. Her pupils are dilated meaning she is experiencing a bout of anxiety and uncertainty. _

"Nicholle …" More uncertainty and hesitation. The monitor starts beeping franticly.

"Nikki, you need to calm down." Charlie grabs my shoulders and tries to get me to focus on his face. "You just woke up, you need to take it easy."

"No! Let me go!" I struggle against Char's grasp, and finally he releases me. "Mom, where's Jenna?" I can't stop my hands from shaking or my breath from feeling like daggers in my chest.

"She didn't make it. I'm sorry."

I take several deep breaths, feeling like I'm trying to hold back a tidal wave.

"Where's Harley?" I ask next.

My mother and Charlie share a look. "She was hit by a car." She informs me.

The dam breaks. My lungs suddenly feel tight and my breath comes in shallow gasps. My heart monitor is beeping like crazy and I'm suddenly freezing. With my hands shaking uncontrollably I grab Charlie in my panic.

"She's fine! Nicholle! Harley is fine! She's here in the hospital and she's doing fine!" My mother tries to assure me, but it's too late. I'm lost in the hurricane of my anxiety and shock, trying desperately to keep my head above the waves.

"We need a doctor in here!" Charlie yells, pulling me into him and trying to soothe me. I notice my mother is suddenly standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan to her body and looking on as the doctors arrive and come nearer.

I close my eyes and bury my face in Char's chest. "Hey, you're ok. It's gonna be ok." He whispers to me as I feel them messing around with my I.V. Then suddenly I'm filled with that drug induced sleepiness that makes you feel like you're drowning and the last thing I see before I go under is Char, the grey of his irises amplified in the halo of fluorescent light as he lowers me back down onto the bed.

_I've always envied your eyes, Charlie. _

~.~.~.~.~.~

I come out of my drugged state several hours later, my hatred for hospitals and doctors renewed. My mother and Charlie are gone, probably to get him settled in back at the house, so I sit up, aware of the protest from my body and ignore the searing pain in my abdomen as I continue anyway.

A nurse comes in then. "Awake are we? Well I don't think we should be moving around like that just yet."

"I need to see someone." I declare, ignoring her 'take it easy' speech.

"Well I don't think the doctors want you up just yet. You have some extensive injuries young lady. And what with that anxiety attack you had earlier ..."

"I'm fine." I glare at her, trying to undo as many of the wires attached to me as I can. "This is important."

She gives me a look that translates to 'so you're _this _kind of patient' before attending to the machines confining me. "Is this person at least here in the hospital?"

"Yeah." She disconnects me from the oxygen tank and the heart monitor, then the I.V. as I look anywhere but my arm. When she's finished I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and notice more bandages, but she stops me from getting up.

"Well then, let me just see what I can do. Stay here, I'll be right back."

She leaves and I do as I was told, looking about the impersonal hospital walls without much thought until she comes back with a wheel chair.

"Here, I'll take you where you need to go."

"Thanks." I mumble as I seat myself in the chair, the injuries on my body making my movements labored and slow. _I guess I wasn't as 'fine' as I thought I was._

"So, where are we going?"

"My best friend, Harley Martinez, is here. She got hit by a car on the same night I was admitted."

"Well then let's go find her. You both could probably use some cheering up."

She wheels me down the corridors to this secretary's desk and they chat for a minute before my nurse asks about Harley. Then she guides me down another hallway and I realize how rude I've been.

"I never asked your name." I state. Though, looking at her, the aspects of her face and stature make her appear to be about thirty to thirty-two and thinking about the popular names from the years 1983-1985 her name will most likely be Jessica, Jennifer or Ashley.

"Ash." She informs me.

"Is it short for Ashley?"

"Mhm. Your friend Harley should be in this room right here."

She pushes me through a doorway and I see Harley trying to stick things down a cast on her foot. She looks up at us just as she reaches for another pencil.

"Having trouble there?" I grin at her.

"The way this thing itches is no laughing matter!" She declares as Ash pushes me over to Harley's bedside.

"How are you? Besides the foot itching thing?" I ask, looking over her, but I can't see anything else that's visibly wrong.

"Fine I guess. I dunno. These quacks keep knocking me out with drugs and stuff!"

"Why?"

"Well, heck if I know. They just … do …"

I look over at Ash who has sat herself down in one of the visitor's chairs and has picked up a novel left there by someone. "Hey Ash, I think I'm good for now. I'll yell if I need you."

She looks up. "I'm supposed to stay with you until the doctors give the OK for you to be by yourself."

"You make it sound like I'm on the suicide watch. Don't I have to be in the mental ward for that?"

"Don't get all snippy. I'm just saying that somebody has to be with you, and right now it's me." She gets comfortable again in the chair and then continues reading.

I roll my eyes and look back at Harley who was just watching this little exchange with curiosity. "So what happened to you?" I ask her.

"I got hit by a car."

"Did it just like … RRRRRRWWWWnnnnnn …. PSSSSCHO!" I narrate my hand motions.

"..." She pauses. "I don't even know what that was supposed to be."

"Well this was the car," I demonstrate again. "and it was driving down the road, When Suddenly! It veers out of control and hits you before bursting into flames."

Harley kinda scoffs and Ash looks up from her book before returning to it. "Honestly, I don't remember." Harley states. "I know I went out to chat with someone," she looks at me before looking away. _She's keeping something from me. _"and then when I left I was crossing the street and S.T.A.R. Labs exploded so I stopped in the road, but the car didn't see me and then … I don't remember."

"Well at least you're ok. You'll be back to normal before too long." I smile at her.

She falters and then offers an uncertain smile. "Yeah. But, now, what happened to you? Your mom said you were at the university?"

I nod, acutely aware of her strange behavior and insistence on changing the subject.

"I thought you were going to watch the particle accelerator launch? I mean, I'm kinda glad you didn't but …"

Whatever it is that's bothering her it must really be something that she wants to keep private, so I commence my explanation. "I was going to go, but I ended up at CCU in the biotech labs with Jenna because she needed help on her individual lab that Mr. Hunt had assigned us. You know how that part looks out on the bay and S.T.A.R. Labs?" Harley nods. "Well we saw the explosion and I tried to get us out of there, but … Jenna wouldn't come with me. I think she was in shock. I went back to try and get her, but that's when the windows exploded. All I remember is the sound of shattering glass and being thrown against those huge sciency machines before they fell on me."

"And Jenna ...?" She asks concerned.

I hesitate. "I didn't see what happened to her, but I remember there was a lot of blood." I try to swallow the lump in my throat as my heart floods with guilt. Harley sits silently and Ash lowers her book to her lap, examining the both of us. Then I remember. "Did you ever get a patient by the name of Sam Coleson?" I ask Ash.

"I don't specifically remember one, no." She says. "But then again I'm just a nurse, and I only have patients in this ward."

"Who's that?" Harley asks.

"Jenna's brother. She said he worked at S.T.A.R. Labs and I wanna make sure he's ok. It's the least I can do." Harley looks at me and I sigh, avoiding her eyes. "Anyway, yeah. Life's been pretty dandy lately, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," She says somberly. "but at least we're still living."

I ponder that thought and decide to be appreciative of it. Noticing how very uncharacteristically serious and quiet Harley is I decide the best thing to do right now is forget about all this depressing hospital stuff, and just focus on the privilege of having my best friend here with me in this moment.

We talk for hours, and I even earn a few laughs from her, but she seems distracted and worried. I try to ask her about it, but she always pretends like it's nothing and continues with our previous conversation. After a while Charlie and my mom come to retrieve me, apparently having come back to check up on me again, but end up staying in Harley's room with me, greeting her as warmly as family would. Because, I mean, she is family.

She blushes ever so slightly as Char reaches down to hug her and I smile to myself, noting how her little crush on my brother hasn't yet gone away. She's never acted on her feelings, though I wouldn't be upset if she did, and I don't know if there really are any feeling or if she just finds him really attractive, which, to be honest, he is.

Char, unlike me, got the best genes from both of our parents. Our mother is beautiful and caucasian, with silky straight blonde hair, pretty blue eyes and delicately feminine features; soft jaw, small waist, petite frame and musician's hands. Our father, however, was half black with thoughtful brown eyes, artful cheekbones and a heavy brow. He was very tall with thick brown hair that was always kept short and shoulders broadened with athleticism. Charlie and I both got a mixture of our parents' skin tones, leaving us a gorgeously golden tan, and Char got our father's height, though I wish it could've included me in that deal too. Char's 6'5'' and built like a brick wall, a handsome, masculine brick wall, while I'm over here with my 5'7'' self trying to pass off a graceful willowy figure only I'm lacking the willowy part. And the grace.

Anyways, back to Char. He has really light brown hair and the intentional, angled eye shape of my mother with pretty grey irises. He inherited the picturesque cheekbones and square jaw of our father along with his deep brooding brow, which is somewhat offset by his good natured, easy going ways (also characteristics of our father). He's dependable, loyal and trustworthy which he learned from Mom, but forsake her shrewd, practical ways and replaced them with courage and valor, and his biggest faults; idealism and pride. Which are probably why he joined the military; he wants to be a hero. He wants to strive towards those noble ideals of freedom and equality while garnering respect and admiration. I think it's quite charming. My mother disagrees.

After Charlie catches up with Harley my family wheels me back to my room with Ash trailing a little ways behind. When we return to my room I inform my mother that I would like to shower and Ash steps up to help me, but I demand that my mother do it.

"Alright, just be aware that a shower might be more painful than a bath would, what with all your cuts. And afterwards you'll need help to apply your bandages."

"Kay." I respond and Charlie declares that he's going back to chill with Harley as my mother pushes my wheelchair into the bathroom. Upon reaching my destination I notice myself in the mirror for the first time. My black hair is nappy and down creating a stark contrast between the white bandage covering the left side of my face. I slowly stand and walk over to the mirror to further examine this development but end up noticing my irises instead. My once hazel eyes are speckled with silver. _How is that possible?_ They look almost … metallic.

The dream.

That metal _thing._

It was real?

And if so, does that mean it's … part of me now?

Am I still human? Or am I … something else?

I feel human.

Maybe I'm just hallucinating.

"Are you planning on getting in any time soon?" My mother inquires as she watches me bare my teeth at my reflection examining them, and the rest of my face, for any other metallic marks, which are seemingly non existent.

"Yeah, sorry. Do you have a brush I can borrow?"

She places her huge purse on the counter and begins rifling through it. "I brought a hair brush, a toothbrush, deodorant, underwear, a change of clothes you probably won't be able to wear yet and some of your shampoo and conditioner you left at my house a while ago."

I smile gratefully. "Thanks Mom." She smiles back.

I turn back to the mirror and slowly peel the bandage from my face, wincing from the slight pain, and expose skin littered with cuts and gashes all in varying stages of healing. I look at my mother's reflection in the mirror to see her mouth pressed into a thin line of worry. My cheekbone is purple and green with bruises and my teeth ache, but as I assess my face my eyes keep wandering back to the scabs. The marks start at my hairline dancing down my face with little regard for the integrity my tan skin once had. I follow their trail down my neck, but am stopped at the base of my throat by the medical gown and more bandages.

I gingerly take off the cloth and begin removing the medical tape, laying the coverings on the sink. As more of them come off the more I see my body marred by more numerous and nastier bruises and scabs, some having already turned into scars. When I'm completely undressed I stand there staring at myself in shock and disgust. No where was left completely untouched.

I notice my mother in the mirror again, and realize I should probably get into the shower, but a morbid curiosity compels me, "Was this from a surgery?" I point at a curved incision that was stitched back together under my left breast.

"Yes. You punctured your lung." My mother whispers, her voice full of the tears she's refusing to show.

"And these?" I point to several long, narrow slices about my stomach with the same black stitch-work.

"Internal bleeding. There are a few more like those on your back, but the rest … the rest are from the glass."

Somehow I knew these answers before she said them, almost like my body had catalogued the damage in my mind. Like a diagnostics scan. Like a computer. But that quickly falls from my thoughts as I wander over my form again, taking in all the marks left by the particle accelerator. _I was lucky. _I try to remind myself. _I was lucky. Jenna wasn't. They might not all turn into scars, you never know. They might go away._

_But you scar easy. _Memories from my childhood remind me. _You'll be ugly for the rest of your life._

"Don't be vain." I whisper to myself. _Be grateful you're alive. You're going to be fine. Be grateful._

I look back at my mom who's looking at me. She looks devastated, but I don't know whether that's because now she can see exactly what I went through, or because she's always been so proud of how pretty Charlie and I were.

"Are you alright?" She asks me, while clutching at her cardigan as if to protect herself from this reality.

I sniff. "Yeah." I step into the shower and pull the curtain to separate us before I turn on the water. I let the warm current wash over me, the sting of the water on my body echoing the sting of my heart, and the sound of the shower washing away the sound of my tears.

~.~. Le skip of Strange Things .~.~

Finally Harley and I are allowed to leave this solemn death trap. Harley got released before me, but she visited me everyday. So did Char, but whenever they would be around each other there was just this … tension and resistance that emanated from them. It was extremely awkward for everyone.

All too soon Charlie has to go back to Afghanistan, and I feel bad that he and Harley didn't work anything out. Harley doesn't know this, but Char told me once that he really likes her, but that she always insists that they wouldn't be good together. I think it's really weird for him, not being able to convince her and whatever, because he's never really had a problem attaining women. And that's not to say that Harley's just some conquest he's hoping to achieve; I've seen the ways he looks at her, and the way he smiles when she's being her adorable nerdy self, how he goes out of his way to see her and spend time with her when he's home... He really cares about her, and I just hope that she cares enough about herself to want to be happy. Maybe not with Charlie if that's not what she wants, but with somebody.

Anyway, so the morning my mom has to drive Charlie to the airport, the doctors inform me that I will be released that afternoon. Which sucks, because if they'd just said that, like, yesterday I could've seen him off. My mom left me the keys to my car just in case, and I am once again appreciative of her foresight and planning. As I drive Harley back to our apartment (She's not allowed to drive because of her cast) I can't help but ask about Char.

"So, what did you and Charlie talk about that got you both so pent up?" I ask, I glance at her with raised eyebrows and then continue to look at the road.

"Something that I hate," She explains with a sigh.

"Which is?"

She pauses, then says, "Baseball."

"Oh," I say, understanding her metaphor, and smile. "Well, you know that I'd never be bothered if you… 'played the game'."

"I know. I just… don't think I should be able to play," She sighs again.

"Why not?" I ask, somewhat concerned.

"I think I should be… an _illegal _player. It wouldn't be fair to the… _team. _Someone could get hurt."

"Are you afraid that the team would get hurt or that _you _would get hurt?" I question, trying to understand.

She looks down, clasping her hands in her lap. "Both."

~.~. Le skip of timey-wimey-ness.~.~

It takes about a week for us to get back into the normal routine of things. I go back to school and work, artfully hiding my scabby skin under baggy sweatpants and shirts, the ones on my face still covered by a very conspicuous bandage. Every single person of the face of this freaking earth has apparently heard what happened and treats me like I'm some fragile, traumatized victim that needs to be taken care of, but I just want things to go back to how they were. I want to go back to being some goody-two shoes that quietly holds the highest grades in class and gets eyerolls for being able to answer all the professor's questions instead of having people basically applaud me just for showing up. I want to go back to meaninglessly flirting with guys at Tullman's without feeling like I'm some giant eyesore without a chance. I want to go back to being me.

Which is hard to do, to say the least. What with Jenna's funeral, and my mother breathing down my neck for every little thing. And sometimes I have these _episodes _where I feel like I lose control of myself, but not in that way where you go out on raging rampages and flip over tables … maybe that was the wrong way to describe it. Maybe what I actually mean is, I gain control of myself. Too much control. I'll just be walking around, going about my day when some tiny detail sends my brain into overdrive. It's just like suddenly I can perceive things in a way I couldn't before; everything is way more objective and detailed, and I spew facts in an endless wave of word vomit. Then just as suddenly it stops. I'm left wondering how I even knew any of that and how to not ever do it again.

And there's more. For the first few days after I got home, whenever I touched my phone or laptop the things would go completely haywire. The screens would fritz and tabs would randomly appear and disappear at a whim, five at one time, and then they would shut down and restart and all this crazy stuff until I stepped a significant distance from them. My lights would flicker on and off and out kitchen appliances and t.v. turn on whenever they please. It almost has me buying into Harley's whole 'our house is haunted' theory, and yet whenever she's home alone she says none of this stuff seems to happen to her.

Being so busy with all of this stuff, I didn't notice it for a while, but when I realized, I brought my concerns to Harley,

"Barry hasn't been by in a while. Has he texted you recently?"

"No, he hasn't." She stops what she was doing to think about it. "Do you think something may have happened to him when the thing blew?" She sounds concerned.

"I don't know. I _hope _not," I say and take a sip from her tea, pondering. I suddenly look up at her from my chair, "but I think I know how we can find out."

I drive Harley across town to that cafe that Barry told me about once; Jitters. We get out, and I hesitate at the door. Going out in public has been … _challenging _for me recently, and the thought of walking in there and going up to someone I've never met, who might not even be working, is really stressing me out. _But this is for Barry. _I look at my reflection in one of the windows and adjust my hair more fully over my left side before pulling the sleeves of my sweater down even further. Then I swallow my fears, grab the door and open it for Harley.

She gives me a look, and I suddenly feel like I've missed something, but before I can ask her about it she clinks forward on her crutches into the warmth of the coffee shop.

"Now what?" She asks, looking back at me.

"We need to find someone," I reply and scan the room until I find my target and launch forward. "Hey Iris!"

"Wait! Who's 'Iris'?" I hear Harley ask, and then a bunch of cussing and frantic clinking and I realise I probably should've waited for her instead of sprinting off like that. I can't really go back for her now though because I already have this girl's attention.

"Hey, you're Iris right?" I'm like, 97% sure this is the girl I saw Barry with at the bar two months ago, but I'm just checking.

"Uh yeah, my name is Iris. How can I help you?" She looks between us like 'Who are you people?'

"Hi. I'm Nicholle and this is Harley. We're friends of Barry." I explain with a smile. At the mention of Barry's name she stops looking confused and looks suddenly sad. _Oh Crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap!_

"Is he okay?" Harley asks.

"I um…," she sighs. "The night that the Particle Accelerator exploded, he was struck by lightning," Iris explains tightly and Harley sounds like she just got punched in the gut. All I can do is stand there in disbelief.

"Ah, shit," Harley declares.

"And he's in a coma," Iris's voice wavers on that word and it sounds like she's about to cry.

"Where is he?" I ask, relieved that he's alive and yet needing to see him for myself.

"S.T.A.R. Labs."

"Why?" Harley asks, somewhat disturbed.

"Dr. Wells just said that he believed that he could take better care of Barry at S.T.A.R. Labs than the hospital."

"Has he?" I ask.

"What?" She responds, confused.

"_Has _Wells been taking better care of Barry?" I ask again, incredulous that she seems so unconcerned about a scientist who blew up half the city wanting to take her best friend to some lab for 'better treatment'.

Iris pauses, looking at at me like she's offended that I would even ask that, as if implying that something about this might be a little suspicious insults her great ancestors.

"Well, I don't know. He's still in a coma," she snaps. "But," she sighs, her tone becoming slightly lighter, "t-they _seem_ to know what they're doing."

My temper peaks at her carelessness and disregard and I shove my hands into my coat to hide my anger. This is somebody's _life._ You don't get to toss these decisions and details around all willy nilly and hope for the best. Man, this girl is rubbing me the wrong way. And as I stand there seething Harley continues,

"Who's 'they'? Is it just Dr. Wells working with Barry, or…"

"Dr. Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon are part of Dr. Wells' 'team' or something."

"Do you mind if we visit him," She asks politely.

"Um. No. Go ahead. I'll call the lab to tell them that you're coming." Iris declares, pulling out her phone. "Do you wanna swap numbers so I can give you directions on how to get to his room?"

"Sure." Harley shrugs.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome." I pull out my phone in turn and proceed to give her my number. Then we say our thanks and head for the car.

"So when do you wanna go?" Harley asks as I get the door for her.

"Now."

ヽ༼ ಠ益ಠ ༽ﾉ

~.~. Le Mini skip ~.~.

About thirty minutes later, Harley and I walk into the ruins of S.T.A.R. Labs, me a bit apprehensive and Harley leading the way. This part of the building is actually in fairly good condition, but the rest of it is under construction to repair the damage caused by the explosion.

"This place is spook-tastic." Harley notes as we wait for the elevator, which, by the way, I am surprised is working.

"Yeah. A total science-fiction meets murder movie feel." I look around.

The elevator dings and opens, allowing us to hobble inside.

"What floor was it again?" She asks, investigating the elevator buttons.

"I'm not sure, want me to text Iris?"

"No. I think it was this one." She presses a button and we wait as the doors close and we're lifted up into the building. I look over at my friend and watch as she stands pensively, looking at the floor.

"I'm actually really glad you said no because that chick just makes my skin crawl. How can Barry even stand her?"

"I know what you mean." Harley agrees.

"It's like," I begin, absently pulling down the sleeves of my sweater and commencing rant mode. "she was totally self absorbed! She found any reason she could to make that conversation about her, and she looked like she _couldn't care less _about why Dr. Wells wanted to care for her supposed best friend! How dare she!"

"If you were in a coma and a crazy scientist wanted to take you to his ruined lab hideaway, I'd at least do a little recon. At least."

"Exactly! I'd be checking this guy's credentials in medical science to see whether or not he was just blowing hot air, I'd have someone do a background check to make sure he wasn't some pervert who wanted to take advantage of you, and I'd learn how to wield a double edged katana just so I could threaten him properly!"

She kinda smiles at me.

"What?" I ask. "I was serious about that katana."

"I know." She chuckles. "Thank you."

"For ranting about Iris?"

"For being you. For caring that much."

I smile back at her. "Of course. I love you, Harley. You're like my sister."

"Thanks." She says again, and we both stand quietly for a time, me not needing her to say it out loud because I know she feels the same.

Then the doors open and we walk through into a kind of foyer, and directly in front of us is a lab of sorts, or what used to be a lab and is now a makeshift hospital with a single patient within. A redhaired woman and a dark haired man are inside conversing with one another as the woman performs a check up on the patient, who I assume is Barry.

I look at Harley and then cautiously step forward into this space, knocking politely on the doorframe. The two of them look up abruptly and we all awkwardly stand there for a sec before Harley says,

"Hi … um, we're here to see Barry."

The woman stops what she was doing and greets us, "Hello, Dr. Wells told us to be expecting you. Miss Martinez and Miss Carstairs?" She looks at each of us in turn.

"Nikki." I say, "And this is Harley."

"I'm Caitlin, and this is Cisco."

"Yo." Cisco waves over to us.

"Is … Is Barry ok?" I ask, advancing into the room. Caitlin goes back to shuffling around Barry's bedside and Cisco removes himself from a chair to come closer to us.

"Well, his vitals are strong," Cisco informs us.

"His body is almost responding to stimuli as if he were awake." Caitlin adds. "All the damage he retained has healed very quickly and his mental scans and readings are showing a properly functioning brain with no obvious injury."

"What does that mean?" Harley asks me quietly.

"It means he's perfectly fine. But also that they don't know why he's still unconscious." I direct my next thought to them, "So are you the only ones who work here?" I feel like there should be more people on a medical team for something like 'trying to get Bartholomew Allen out of a coma' kinda deal, or maybe just … in general.

"Yes." Caitlin says staunchly, effectively ending her part in that answer.

"Not too many people wanted to stick around after what happened with the particle accelerator." Cisco picks up where Caitlin left off. "A lot of 'em blame Dr. Wells for what happened, so …"

"Well, wasn't it kinda his fault?" Harley asks. "I mean, he's the one who built the thing …"

Caitlin looks up sharply. "We all built 'the thing'. Everyone who was employed here had a part to play in making the particle accelerator. What happened was nobody's fault, but if you insist on blaming the one man who's put in the most effort to repair the lives it ruined," Her voice breaks on that word, "you might want to find your friend another place to stay."

Harley looks at me with a look that says, 'this is not how I intended that question to sound'.

'I know,' I mouth to her.

Cisco laughs awkwardly. "I think what Caitlin _meant, _ladies, was that the particle accelerator's explosion was an accident. An accident that everyone here regrets, and Dr. Wells is trying to make up for it by doing stuff like treating your friend Barry."

"Don't tell me what I meant, Cisco." Caitlin says, almost too quietly to hear.

"I'm sorry," Harley starts, obviously upset about making Caitlin mad. Though honestly I think she was just being a little touchy. "I didn't mean to say that. I don't blame Dr. Wells or _any _of you or _anyone _for what happened. I mean, _this," _She looks down at her cast, "was totally my fault and I am _truly _grateful that you're taking care of Baby Face. I just need to say things quietly to myself first."

"But there isn't always time." CIsco responds and Harley looks over at him with such momentum I was afraid she was going to fall over.

"Do you watch _Friends?" _She asks excitedly.

"Are you kidding me? _The One Where the Monkey Gets Away_? That's a good one." She looks at him and awe and offers her hand for a high five and they laugh at their knowledge of t.v. shows.

I smile to myself at their nerdiness. _Looks like Harley has found a kindred spirit. _I glance over at Caitlin to she if she has reconsidered her opinion of us. She looks as if she'd ignored the entire event, staring at Barry's monitors instead, but at the same time I can tell that she isn't seeing them. Her mouth is drawn in resignation and in her eyes rests the first sign of tears. She's drawn her arms around her sides and she looks distant and void of all the hope one could ever possess.

My mind processes all of these things and I come to a realization almost instantly.

"Did you lose someone too?" I ask her softly.

She turns around, surprised and angry, looking at me as if I just robbed her of something private and sacred. Cisco and Harley stand there silent and tense, their happy moment suddenly ruptured, waiting for her reaction. It takes a moment, but her facade slowly dissipates, leaving in its place someone broken and hurting.

"My fiancé, Ronnie." Her chin quivers.

Then I do something that surprises even me; I cross the few feet separating us and embrace her, holding her to me with all the force I can muster. I hug her tightly, realizing that her high heels make her several inches taller than me, but regardless of that awkwardness, more surprising than any of it is that she actually hugs me back.

She squeezes me tight and I can feel her shaking against me, still trying to hold back all of her anger and grief. We both know that Cisco and Harley are watching us, and I suspect that's the reason she lets go so suddenly and says, "Thank you, but I have to go." and wipes her eyes before swiftly heading out of the room.

Cisco looks between us, conflicted before he says, "I'm gonna go check on her. Please don't break anything." And jogs after her.

"No promises!" Harley yells after him.

Left alone to our own devices, I stand there next to Barry's bedside, really unsure of what to do. Harley limps over to me on her crutches as I gaze down at his comatose form, and I can't help but think of all those fairy tales you read when you're a kid where he could wake up if we just found his true love and made them kiss. I laugh at the ridiculousness of that thought, and blink away the sudden wetness forming in my eyes. Finding one person out of seven billion in all the world and bringing them here sounds much better than the reality that my friend may never wake up again.

I keep thinking that maybe if I had been at the accelerator launch with Barry and Iris instead of CCU with Jenna then maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe I could've stopped Barry from getting struck by lightning and falling into a coma. Maybe if I'd have just done something a little different or moved just a little bit faster ...

"We should've brought flowers." I whisper absently to Harley, fighting a sudden urge to bolt from the room.

"Yeah." She agrees. "Maybe next time."


	5. Outtake 1

Out-take #1

Hey guys! It's me! Keepinitrul2015! Long time no see! Anyway, I realize that I have been gone for quite some time and I wanted to write this little intro and mini chapter for just that reason. As I hope many of you know, I coauthor with my friend ProcrastinatorandLazyBoy who is writing a parallel story from Harley's perspective (which you should all check out cause it's fantastic. Leave lots of nice comments), however, we've been on an extended hiatus from our 'The Flash' fanfic because ProcrastinatorandLazyBoy is in the midst of writing a 'Young Justice' fanfic as well. (Which, again, you should check out because she is an amazing writer). SSSOOOOoOOooOOooOoooOOOooo! I wanted to inform you that while we may not be back on Flashy stuff for a while I am taking this opportunity to write an original story on FictionPress called 'The Mysterious Mystery of Mysteriosity' which you can check out if you have time. It starts out a little slow, but I promise, it's gonna be super intense and awesome, and I'm really excited about it! XD

But as far as this little chapter I've made for you … This is basically a taste of what's been going on with Nikki between chapters 4 and 5 because there's gonna be a huge time skip at the beginning of chapter 5. There's a smidge of background and, just a little warning, things get a little risque between some people so beware … Other than that, enjoy, babes! ლ(|||⌒εー|||)ლ

~.~.~.~.~.~

I look up at the sky, watching the clouds be blown swiftly across that great expanse of blue by a warm August breeze. Thoughts swirl around in my brain, but I try to force them into some sign of coherence.

_The scene opens with a young woman laying silently in a graveyard, moping._

_She is dressed nicely, having previously been on her way to meet with the family of her dead lab partner and apologize for her role in her death._

_But alas, she is too much of a coward._

_And she knows from experience that graveyards are good for moping._

I sigh. "How cliche."

I roll from my back onto my belly and look at the headstone in front of me.

Keith Avery Carstairs

Beloved father, husband and friend. May you rest in peace.

July 27, 1963 - October 12, 2004

I give a small laugh. "I remember begging Mom to put K.C. on your headstone instead of Keith 'cause I knew you'd like it better, but you know how she has that thing about nicknames." I bite my lip to keep away tears as memories of my dad come flooding back to me all at once.

"Daddy, I screwed up." I sniff, pulling my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. "There was an accident and I guess it wasn't really anyone's fault, but this girl I knew … she died and I feel so responsible. They told me that if it'd happened any other way I would've died with her there, but she … her body blocked me from most of the projectiles. I am alive _because she died. _And I was the one who asked her to come there.

"And my friend Barry, oh god." I look up at the clouds and blink my eyes clear. "I was supposed to meet him after the particle accelerator launch so we could geek out about it and so he could tell me about this girl Iris, but instead I went with Jenna and he got struck by lightning. He's in a coma. He's been in a coma for seven months. I'm not sure he's ever gonna wake up, Daddy.

"And what do I have to show for it? A few scars? Survivor's guilt?" I scoff. "I still finished college. I have a job. And my best friend. I had another birthday. Mom and Char didn't have to buy another headstone … I still have my life.

"But I don't feel like I deserve any of it."

~.~.~.~.~

I find myself in a club later. I'm not sure which one, but I know I've been here before. Then again, most clubs look pretty much the same. The same dim lighting and colorful dance floor crowded with sweaty strangers grinding against you. But the beer just tastes too familiar. _I've definitely been here before. _I order another just to be sure.

Yep.

Definitely familiar.

"Bartender, I'll have another." I slur and then giggle, realizing just how out of it I am. I don't even remember why I wanted to get drunk in the first place. I guess maybe that was the point? "Maybe we can make that two."

"Oh no you won't." I look up as somebody takes the money out of my hand and puts it in his pocket. "Come on Nick, let's get you home."

It's Mason.

He's dragging me out of my chair now and I partially let him due to the fact that I'm stunned that he's here. His blond hair glints with each change of the lights and his face is set somberly in a blank expression. He's pulling me towards the door now.

"H-hey!" I exclaim, jerking my arm out of his grip. "Who do you think you are? I can have as many beers as I want, thank you very much. I am an adult."

"Nick, you're completely wasted." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Since I got here you've let two _different _sets of guys sandwich grind you, had four beers an hour, fallen over twice, and you've been flirting with anything that moves."

I giggle. "Did you miss the part where I'm an adult and I can do what I want?"

"Honestly, it's pathetic Nikki. If you were sober you'd be mortified."

"When did you start caring again?" I stagger, pointing at him accusingly, "Before or after you broke my heart twice? Or maybe when you decided we weren't talking anymore?" He shifts and looks around uncomfortably, and I'm proud I've managed to get a reaction out of him. "If you ever _did _have the right to drag me out of bars and clubs, you definitely don't now."

I go to turn around, but sway so violently that Mason picks me up to keep me from falling on my face. I cling to him as my stomach suddenly decides to revolt against me, and he carries me bridal style to the door where a security guard person (who's apparently an eavesdropper) nods with understanding and opens the door for us.

"Where's your car?" He asks, his voice reverberating in my ear as I rest my head at the base of his neck.

"Left." I direct him quietly, and he turns, finding it quickly. "My keys are …" I gesture to my purse.

He grabs them and unlocks my car, expertly opening my door and setting me inside. He buckles me in and closes the door, swiftly heading to the driver's side. Soon we're driving and before I know it Mason has me in his arms again, ascending the stairs to my apartment, unlocking my door and taking me inside. Well … I thought it was my apartment, but apparently not.

"Is this where you live?" I ask, unfortunately only realizing how stupid that question was after I said it.

"Yeah." He says absently as he takes me through his living room farther into his house. He opens another door and lays me on a bed, his bed, and leaves for a moment. I lay there quietly, mostly incapable of moving, and hear the front door shut. Mason soon returns and begins to remove my strappy heels.

"You can sleep in here, I'll take the couch. Bathroom's right down the hallway." He informs me.

"You know, whenever I thought of you undressing me, I never quite imagined it in this situation." I say quietly. He looks up at me from the foot of his bed, somewhat surprised at my words and then he smirks, returning to his task. "I thought what's her butt would be living with you by now." I continue.

"Jillian?" He shrugs. "Things haven't been going so well lately."

"But you still love her."

"Yeah."

"And you still want to marry her."

He hesitates. "Yeah."

I roll over onto my tummy as he finishes with my shoes and clumsily search for my zipper. "Don't say it with too much enthusiasm, people might get jealous." I pause, "Can I borrow a shirt?"

"Um, sure." He walks over to his dresser and I sit up carefully. I finally manage to locate that dumb device that allows me to get out of this dumb dress and unzip myself, not thinking about it as I take off the straps, exposing my purple polka dotted bra just as Mason goes to hand me his t-shirt.

"Woah, ok." He says, quickly laying the shirt next to me and turning around.

"Don't worry lover boy, I'm not -" I falter as I stand up shakily and turn away from him, "I'm not coming on to you." I shimmy out of my clothes, readjusting my thong before grabbing his shirt and throwing it on. I turn around to see him gazing at my body wistfully, but when he notices me looking at him he swiftly looks away, and my stomach fills with mixed emotions; primarily embarrassment, happiness and confusion. "Unless you want me to, that is."

"What? I - uh - no! I don't know what you're talking about." He turns to face me again and crosses his arms over his chest, scratching his chin in 'confusion'.

"Mason, I'm drunk, not stupid. I saw you watching me, and I know what it means when a boy wants to watch a girl get undressed." I take a step towards him, but stumble and he catches me on instinct. I giggle drunkenly and take the opportunity to seductively pull myself against him as I right myself, putting my head in the nape of his neck. His hands find their way to my waist and I smile at his unsolicited and comforting response. Letting my lips gently brush his throat I say, "It means he likes the way she looks without clothes …" I let my hand trail down his firm chest.

His hands mimic the movement on my own body, slowly descending to stroke my hips before he stops and clears his throat, giving an exasperated huff. "Nikki you're drunk, come on. You know how I feel about this. You wouldn't be doing this if you were sober."

"But _you're_ sober." I whisper into his ear, licking the shell. He intakes a sharp breath through his nose and his grip on my hips tightens, drawing me closer. "And _you're _the one letting me …"

He gently pushes himself away from me, but in my current state his actions cause me to stumble backwards, flopping onto his bed. Instead of trying to get back up though, I lay there, aware of how little of my legs his shirt covers and I hatch an idea.

"Does that mean you just want another look then?" I smirk as I trail my hand down my body to the hem of his tee and slowly drag it back upwards, exposing my skin as his eyes follow the entire way. Upon reaching belly button level I employ my other hand with the task of running over my panties sensually. I bite my lip in satisfaction and edge my fingers under the fabric a little ways before he grabs my hands and pulls the shirt back down.

I sit up, extremely close to his face. I can see him struggle to control his desires as he swallows hard and looks up at the ceiling to regain his composure before addressing me, or even looking at me for that matter,

"Nikki, please. Just stop already." His blue eyes plead for sensibility, but he remains only inches from me. I realize then that, not only does he want me, but he's trying to give himself an excuse to screw me. He wants me to keep egging him on because if _I _seduce _him _he could claim a momentary lapse of judgement if it came down to it, instead of what we both know is really happening: consent. But I can play his little game.

"Why? Am I turning you on?" I grin, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a brief kiss, his mouth moving against mine before he pulls away half heartedly. I giggle, "Don't be shy, we both know you're enjoying this …" I lean farther down, trailing my tongue down his neck, using my hand to caress every inch of his body. I go lower and lower without him stopping me and then I'm cupping him, surprised at the bulge that's started in his pants. He groans at my touch, a low and throaty sound that sends chills through my spine. "Apparently more than I thought."

"Nikki …" He exhales my name and I'm not sure if it was meant to scold or excite, but the way his eyes flutter closed and his parted lips lean towards me has me feeling all hot and bothered.

"Mason …" I whisper softly, guiding him to be more fully on top of me as I lay back on his comforter. He willingly moves with me until all I can see is him and all I can smell his cologne and all I can feel is the warmth of his body over mine. I sigh contentedly, turning my face to the side to show that he can have whatever he'd like. "I'll let you do anything you want …"

He caresses my face slowly, probably trying to decide how to proceed, but I can imagine that with a half naked woman beneath you and a rather prominent erection the decision was already pretty much made.

"I can't do this." He mumbles, but his body leans even further towards me.

"Sure you can, baby."

"No," He declares, running his hands down the length of my body before grabbing my face and kissing me passionately. We separate, panting for air, "I mean I can't keep myself from you anymore." I hum in appreciation as his hand slips up my shirt and extend my neck so that his mouth has more room to roam. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've wanted this for so long …"

"Then take me."

And with that last push his willpower falls away.

~.~ Le Skip of Les Sassy Moments ~.~

I wake up with a pounding headache and notice first the lack of cat on my face. Then I notice a pale green comforter instead of my vibrant hot pink one. Then I notice the arm draped around my waist. My naked waist. And finally I notice who that arm is attached to.

I sit up abruptly and cover my mouth in shock. "Oh my god."

Mason stirs at my words and I pull his blankets around to cover my body, inadvertently exposing more of his. The planes of his chest smoothly transition into his abs and suddenly I'm remembering snippets of last night.

"Oh my god." My face heats up and I avert my eyes from him swiftly. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD!"

"What's wrong?" Mason asks groggily, the remnants of sleep still clouding his voice, making it deep and rumbly. "Nikki?" His eyebrows knit together as he sits up. He stretches and then smiles, leaning in to kiss me. "Goodmorning."

"Oh my god!" I exclaim, taking his blankets with me as I scramble off the bed away from him. "You have a girlfriend! I was over you! Jesus! Put some clothes on!" I shield my eyes as he moves to stand up. I begin to try to locate my own clothing, still clutching the blanket around me, but then Mason's shins are in my field of vision and I turn away, eyes to the ceiling.

"Mason," I address him, "we already did something really bad. Please don't make it any worse."

His arms wrap around me from behind and he leans his chin on my shoulder. "Bad? That's not how you were describing it last night." He chuckles. "You wanted _everyone _to know just how good it felt."

I cover my mouth with my hand as all the blood rushes to my cheeks. "Oh my god. Oh. My. God."

"I remember those words being uttered a time or two," He smirks and kisses my neck, "usually followed by 'Ung yes!'."

"How are you not freaking out?!" I exclaim, pulling away and turning to face him. "You have a girlfriend, damn it! Shit! WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES?!"

I scurry to the other side of the room and retrieve my underwear and toss Mason his pants. He catches them, but makes no move to put them on. Regardless I face a corner and redress, covering as much of me as possible as I run over to grab my dress from his floor and quickly shimmy back into it.

"Jillian? JIllian doesn't matter anymore, I want to be with you, Nick."

My heart flutters at his words but I refuse to look at him. "You don't mean that."

"Yeah, I really do."

"You've been with this girl for over two and a half years but you want to dump her after a night of drunk sex with me? Not a smart choice, Babe. This was a mistake. And breaking up with Jillian would be one too because I can assure you, this will never happen again."

He's silent for a moment and then I hear his belt buckle jingle violently as he yanks his pants back on. "Damn it, Nicholle. I know you think I just wanted a quick fuck 'cause obviously it's not like you're intelligent and funny and beautiful and caring, or basically everything any guy could hope to have in their girlfriend. It's not like I could've possibly had sex with you because _I have feelings for you _or anything. God! If anything I was the one trying to get over you!" I turn around and find him running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"What are you talking about?" I ask quietly, barely allowing myself the chance to hope. "You told me you weren't ever and would never be in to me. After I told you that I loved you. And then you wouldn't talk to me. You didn't even visit me in the hospital."

"I lied. I thought I was in love with Jillian because I spent so much time trying to convince myself that I was. I'm not saying I never cared about her, but you were always my first choice. And I couldn't talk to you, Nick. Every time I wanted to say something I would turn around and there you'd be, talking to some customer, being completely yourself and I just … You were just so … I didn't know what to say. I thought I'd missed my chance to be anything to you, friend or otherwise. And then you had that kid Bucky or whatever -"

"Barry." I correct him.

"Whatever, I thought you were into him, so," He shrugs, "I left you alone. And about the hospital thing," He sighs, "I didn't come because I thought you hated me for what I said to you. I tried to send you flowers, but they didn't allow them in the unit you were staying in. I'm sorry."

I stand there quietly, trying to understand exactly what he's saying, my hangover headache making it a little difficult. "So, last night …?"

He relaxes and smiles sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "Last night was amazing."

I blush again. "No, I meant, why did you know which club I was at? And why didn't you take me home? 'Cause I mean, if you didn't think I was into you what did you hope to accomplish by bringing me here? Because I know you know where I live, what with driving me home after work and all."

"I was out with some friends, Nick. It was a complete coincidence, and I did leave you alone until I got concerned that you might get alcohol poisoning, or some guy you were flirting with would take you home when you didn't want him to. And my place was just closer." He shrugs.

"I remember you brought me in here and took off my shoes." I declare, trying to corroborate his story. "But after that it gets kinda fuzzy …"

He takes my hand in his and leans into my ear. "I can try to jog your memory if you'd like." The hand not holding mine brushes my black curls away from my shoulder and glides down my back as his mouth moves down to my neck.

Caught up in this moment of his skin on mine I allow him to continue touching me. He presses me roughly against the closest wall and pulls my leg up around his waist as he grabs my hip firmly, his mouth ghosting across my throat. My heartbeat flutters in excitement at his display of dominance and I gasp as his teeth grasp the dip of my neck. My hands run across his broad shoulders and chest but stop as I think of something.

"Mason, were we safe last night? Did … did you use a condom?"

He hums in affirmation. "There are more in my night stand." He takes this opportunity to capture my mouth with his own, kissing me passionately as his right hand glides up my thigh and under my dress.

_Why am I fighting him? This is all I ever wanted, _I realize, _His lips. His touch. His heart. _But somehow, now that I have them, all of these things seem marred by our circumstances.

He has a girlfriend.

And I'm, well, me.

He brushes the edge of my underwear and I'm startled from my thoughts, suddenly knowing what has to be done. For both of us.

"N-no, Mason this is wrong. I have to go." I say, pushing him away from me and grabbing my shoes.

He looks surprised and confused at my actions. "Wait, Nick, where are you going?"

"Home." I say decisively.

"But … What about us? I want to be with you Nikki. I'll break up with Jillian, I swear, just … stay. Please."

I hesitate for a moment and seeing that he tries to step towards me.

"I'll call you or something." I say, only brave enough to glance at him before I rush into his living room and grab my purse, making my way outside and down into the parking lot. I use my lock button to locate my car and when I find it I quickly slide in and start it, backing out and pulling out onto the street.

_He isn't mine to have, _I try to assure myself, _and you know that even if Jillian wasn't around he'd never truly be yours. _Yet all I can think of as I drive home is the brief look I saw on his face as I left: Heart break. And in his broken heart I find a kind of ironic symmetry to my own; knowing that what I'd wanted for so long was so close to becoming reality only to lose it is almost more devastating than his initial rejection. I can just imagine the heart that I'd managed to piece together with band aids and superglue suddenly coming undone.

_I don't even know if there's anything to put back together anymore …_


End file.
